


The Holiday Spirit

by shireness



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Culturally Conscious Henry, F/M, Gen, holiday fun
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-04
Updated: 2017-11-04
Packaged: 2019-01-29 07:24:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12626064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shireness/pseuds/shireness
Summary: Killian is a little confused about the Land Without Magic's various holidays. Henry is willing to spend his year teaching Killian about them all.





	The Holiday Spirit

It all starts on July the Fourth.

Killian’s been led to believe this is some sort of holiday – certainly, nearly the entire town seems to have shut down for _something_ – but he’s puzzled as to what, and why. He’s been in town for nearly two years now, in spurts, but Storybrooke is a place constantly in the middle of a crisis. He believes he’s missed a few of this realm’s holidays, and has definitely missed the details on this particular one. Looking back, he can’t even pinpoint quite how he missed this celebration – were they in Neverland? Camelot? Dealing with the ice witch? Chasing down the wayward Author? He frankly can’t remember.

But the fact remains – the town is decked in red and blue, Dave has been carrying on about a barbecue for weeks, and Killian has no idea what’s going on. So, naturally, he turns to Henry.

(He knows Emma would tell him, but there’s something so endearing about how enthusiastic Henry gets about teaching him everything the lad deems necessary for life in this realm.)

“Wait, you don’t know about the Fourth of July?” Henry demands in response to his hesitant queries.

“Well, in my defense, it’s been a wee bit hectic since I’ve gotten here,” Killian replies.

“Oh my god, I bet you don’t know about any of the others either. This is going to be so much fun! I’ll tell you everything.”

Under Henry’s tutelage (and with a literary assist from Belle), Killian is forced into an accelerated crash course in the history of the United States. By the time the Fourth actually rolls around, Killian knows more about the American Revolution than most American high schoolers likely retain, and is able to appreciate why this particular day is celebrated with such fanfare. (He still doesn’t quite understand why the grilled meats are necessary to the celebration, but it seems no one else does either.)

His first July the Fourth is spent under the fireworks, surrounded by family, his wife on one side and stepson on the other, and he thinks there couldn’t have been a better one.

\------

August brings a bit of worry.

As the month goes on, the promised monthly holiday never shows up, and never shows up, until Killian finally goes to Henry again, just to make sure he hasn’t missed something (because it would be just his luck to accidentally miss some holiday where he’s expected to buy a gift for his spouse).

It seems Henry forgot to mention that nothing happens in August.

Killian may be taking this holiday tutorial a bit too seriously.

\------

Labor Day just seems like a repeat of the Fourth of July, only without the fireworks.

Part of this, he thinks, is that Henry wasn’t able to properly explain what the holiday is about (“I don’t know, celebrating American workers? Something like that? Just enjoy the cookout, Killian.”). But really, when the repeat is so enjoyable, who is he to complain?

They wind up taking the Jolly out on the water for the holiday. Emma provides the beer, David mans the grill, and everyone brings their bathing suits, from tiny Neal to Regina, of all people.

It feels nice, to be able to actively contribute to this holiday. He had enjoyed the Fourth of July, but he hadn’t been expected to do much – fireworks meant they stayed on land, and Dave had jealously guarded his post at the grill. Now, on the Jolly, his own proverbial turf, he not only gets to help pull the day together, but show off a little too. Henry, his newly appointed first mate, is eager to continue his lessons in steering the ship, and even Snow takes a turn at the helm. (Regina refuses, and cannot be convinced otherwise – “I’m a queen, Captain, not some deckhand. That’s what the rest of you are for.”)

The day ends at the Nolan farmstead, of all places, gathered around a bonfire. Henry introduces him to toasted marshmallows, and more importantly, s’mores, which Killian takes to immediately. Who knew that this weird, fluffy foodstuff could be combined so beautifully with a cracker, of all things, and chocolate? He’s half tempted to start making these in the living room fireplace and request them for every holiday from here on out.

Labor Day may be a holiday he can’t quite wrap his head around, but if this is what every year will be like, he’s more than happy to celebrate the first Monday in September.

\------

October begins with a lecture.

Apparently, there is some bank holiday in this country called “Columbus Day”, and Henry is very emphatic that they Will Not Be Celebrating it.

“It would be like if Regina had wandered out into the rest of the country when the curse had brought her here and declared to everyone that she had discovered it. Which would be patently untrue, since there’s already people living there. Same thing with Columbus, except he then also forced everyone into slavery. So enjoy the day off of work, but no, we’re not celebrating this one.”

Killian decides that the boy has point, really, and lets October 9th pass without comment.

\------

Killian decides that he very much likes Halloween.

There’s an aura of piracy about the whole thing – children going door to door, dressed in elaborate costume, demanding candy or threatening retaliation. Henry may have declared himself “too old” for the whole thing, but Killian is more than happy to participate. Emma laughs at him all afternoon as he runs around the house, making sure everything looks appropriately “spooky” while dressed in his full pirate regalia. (“Babe, I think you might be more excited than the kids. Chill.”)

There had been a party the night before at Granny’s, of course. And as always, it was a great time – good food, good company, Emma in a simply delightful witches’ costume (and insistent on him dressing as a cartoonish prince, horror of horrors, claiming that everyone would find the irony hilarious) – but really, he’s been looking forward to this part of this Halloween more. The children of Storybrooke have just been so _excited_ about this thing – every time he and Emma go out, he’s been told by at least one child what they’re planning to dress as, and he must have heard about little Alexandra Herman’s plans to be a doggy for the night close to ten times.

Emma may roll her eyes at his fussing, but he wants to make sure they’ve done their part to make this the best Halloween ever for these kids who probably haven’t had a chance to properly celebrate the holiday, between curses and villains and various battles.

He likes to think the night was a success. Despite a rough start – his hook apparently scared some of the littlest ones when also dressed in his pirate regalia, forcing him to take it off – the kids seem to have a great time, and he loves seeing all the costumes. There’s plenty of princesses and superheroes, a handful of witches and pirates, and several more obscure costumes, his particular favorite being a baby dressed as a skunk. Alexandra is just as cute of a puppy as promised, despite attempting to bark at him and Emma instead of saying the prerequisite “trick or treat”. The kids nearly clean out their own stash of candy, but Dave stops by later with Neal (as a very adorable dinosaur) to donate half of the toddler’s accumulated cache, and Killian tries more candies than he ever knew existed, raising questions like what is a Bottlecap, and more importantly, does he actually like them or not?

Halloween, he concludes, is a little odd – he doesn’t get the day off, and the event seems more centered around greed and deception and terrifying others than any other holiday he’s aware of.

Still, he can’t help but conclude that he loves this holiday.

\------

Thanksgiving is a true family affair. And that’s saying something, considering that everything in this town, from dinner decisions to fighting the latest monster, tends to be a family affair.

But really, everyone ends up playing a part. Regina volunteers her house to host (claiming “I can’t spend another holiday on Granny’s vinyl seats, thank you”) and contributes macaroni and a collection of apple pies; Snow provides the stuffing (whatever that is), two pumpkin pies, and a chocolate cheesecake; Belle brings a green bean casserole and cranberry sauce; Granny contributes both a ham and a turkey, as well as her positively divine mashed potatoes; and he and Emma contribute the rolls. Store bought. No one trusted them to contribute anything that required too much cooking.

Everything Henry has told him leads him to think that everything that makes Thanksgiving will happen in the early afternoon. So he’s a little surprised to have Emma force him out of bed perhaps earlier than she has ever willingly been awake – and without any inducements of a more salacious nature – in order to sit him down on the couch and turn on the TV to something she’ll only describe as “The Parade”. 

“This is my own favorite Thanksgiving tradition,” she explains, “so I convinced Henry to let me surprise you with it.” 

Surprise is definitely the word. There are massive balloons and musical numbers, strangely themed floats and overly enthusiastic announcers, and more than anything else he’s confused and slightly overwhelmed. He settles instead for watching Emma’s reactions, her joy and amusement (and sometimes distaste at the more awful singers) throughout the whole wild production. 

They finally make it over to Regina’s around two, to only mild disapproval, ready to stuff themselves full of the entire feast and carting with them their bags of rolls. Henry immediately attacks him to learn what he thought about the morning’s festivities, and Killian finds himself attempting to break it gently to Henry that the parade, while a tradition he’s happy to continue in years to come, is maybe one he doesn’t quite understand. And if that spurs an extensive explanation on everything about the event, then so be it. 

The meal itself - “the main event”, as Dave calls it - is delicious, of course. He eats all three varieties of dessert and feels like he can’t move from his chair afterwards, which he’s told means he’s properly participated. This holiday may not be quite as involved as some others, like Halloween or what Henry promises Christmas will be, but he likes the feel of this one. It’s comforting, in a way the others haven’t been, an entire day centered around eating and spending time with family and maybe falling asleep in an armchair. The rest of the group chatters on around him, but he’s happy just to sit quietly and observe, reveling in the feeling of family. 

\------

Christmas is a new favorite.

Granted, he’ll be the first to admit that this holiday is a little overwhelming at first. There’s _so_ many traditions, and when Henry tells him about the religious background of the celebration, Killian gets worried he won’t be allowed to participate, still subscribing more to the multiple gods of his childhood than anything else. As Henry explains though, the residents of Storybrooke follow more of the cultural aspects of Christmas and set aside the religious part – giving gifts and spending time together and indulging in all the various culinary traditions and not necessarily going to church.

He’ll be the first to admit – not all the traditions are for him. The holiday sweater is ugly and itchy and far too warm, but he wears it anyways for fear of his mother-in-law and what might happen if he doesn’t wear it in her holiday family photo. While there surely must be an upside to caroling, it’s certainly hard to see one when it’s a group of drunken dwarves doing the singing. Not to mention the fruitcake – a substance that he’s not convinced contains either fruit or cake, no matter how many loaves Granny gives him (and Emma summarily throws away).

(“Killian. No. Someone offers you fruitcake, you say _no_. Practice with me now.”)

But there are things that he likes very much.

He weirdly enjoys the process of choosing the perfect gift, despite how much it stresses everyone else out. He winds up with quite the haul – a pair of framed prints of book covers for Belle, a beautiful birdhouse for Snow, Star Wars t-shirts and some nice colored pencils for Henry and his recent interest in illustrating, and a proper scabbard for Dave (who has a frankly unsafe tendency to have his massive weapon sheathed bare and willy-nilly in his belt). Emma is a little more tricky – there’s a certain amount of pressure to get things just right – but he decides to cover all the bases with a lovely pair of earrings as well as a new gun holster in some nice leather. It’s only as the date gets closer that he gets nervous about his gifts – what if he’s misunderstood what’s expected on this holiday? What if his gifts are too much, or not enough? What if, gods forbid, they simply don’t like what he purchased? But all his worries are put to rest watching their faces on Christmas Day, seeing the surprise and joy his efforts resulted in.

Food, unsurprisingly, seems to play a large role in this holiday, and with the exception of the dreadful fruitcake, Killian loves every bite. He loves how peppermint is now put in everything under the sun, even if he is personally more partial to the seasonal toasted marshmallow hot chocolate the new coffee shop offers than their peppermint option. Even if Swan burns the first batch of Christmas cookies, the second and third turn out deliciously, and he loves decorating the lot with Emma and Henry. And even if it’s terribly stereotypical, he loves the rum-spiked eggnog they all partake in at the Charming’s Christmas Eve mixer (and if he slips Henry a sip, just to try, well, he’s certainly not admitting to anything). The whole holiday is a culinary extravaganza, even more than Thanksgiving, and his taste buds simply can’t get enough.

Henry deems what seems like literal scores of movies to be mandatory Christmas viewing, and Killian willingly sits though each and every one for what seems like every night that month. He’s particularly fond of the animated short films – even if Swan teases him that his ears look like Hermie’s – and can’t help but laugh at “How the Grinch Stole Christmas”. Despite Dave’s assertion that it’s “the _classic_ Christmas movie, Jones, you’ll love it”, he just can’t get into “It’s a Wonderful Life”. It’s a surprising downer, despite all claims to the contrary. Granny suggests something she calls “Hallmark movies”, but Killian finds them a bit cheesy for his taste. He likes Emma’s choice a bit better – “ _Die Hard_ is totally a Christmas movie, Killian, it happens at Christmastime. What do you know anyways, this is your first one!” – but he’s prepared to confidently standby his choices of _Frosty_ and _Rudolph_ (and he’s vindicated to learn Snow feels the same way).

His Christmas Day is filled with family, and food, and new memories, and as he watches the snow fall outside his living room window after all is said and done, he knows he’ll treasure this first Christmas as long as he lives.

\------

New Year’s is a holiday he understands.

It’s reassuring, seeing that this is a celebration marked absolutely everywhere. In the Enchanted Forest, years and years ago with his brother, they always tried to mark the occasion under the stars, monitoring the cheap pocket watch Liam had splurged on one Christmas to mark the exact moment a new year began, always with the proclamation that this would be the year that made heroes out of the Jones brothers. Later, Milah and he would drink themselves silly on the finest wine he could procure and mark the new year with their own private celebrations. Even in Neverland, he did his best to raise a flask to another year, and the hope that the next would prove more fruitful in his quest for revenge.

Now, here in the Land Without Magic, he finds himself at a somewhat raucous celebration out at the Charming’s new farmhouse. Champagne has been flowing freely the whole night, and it seems like everyone Snow and David know has been invited – all the dwarves, Granny, Gepetto and August, Belle (with her little boy napping upstairs with the littlest Nolan), Regina and Zelena, Archie – the list goes on and on. Emma makes something she calls “buffalo chicken dip” that she brings to share, only partially as proof that she actually _can_ cook, and the potluck system means Granny finally gets a break. The watch some ridiculous program on the television – too many performers he doesn’t recognize or understand – and Emma spends much of the night laughing at his confused expressions. Finally, as the clock strikes midnight, a very tipsy Swan practically throws herself at his face for perhaps the most enthusiastic kiss she’s ever attempted in public. Apparently, it’s a tradition – never mind the fact that David looks like he’s about blow a gasket.

It’s surprisingly nice, that while so many of this realm’s traditions confuse and escape him, this is a holiday that is still, largely, the same.

(He gets his own laugh in later, when Emma insists that she’ll be fine to poof them home with her magic, that she’s not _that_ drunk, despite the Charmings’ offer to let them spend the night, and accidentally lands them in the neighbor’s backyard instead of their own bedroom. He’s not convinced his loud snort doesn’t wake the unfortunate family, and it takes everything he has not to crow an “I told you so”.)

(Minutes later, as she practically drags him up the stairs to start their own celebration – “With a bang, Killian! Geddit? A bang? Cus of fireworks and sex? A bang!” – he is forced to admit that her questionable decision actually has its merits, and really wasn’t that questionable at all. In fact, he’s willing to fully stand behind it.)

\------

Valentine’s Day is stressful, more than anything else.

Which really, is patently ridiculous, because Emma clearly couldn’t care less about the whole thing. He’s a man devoted to making every day a little bit romantic; he can see where she’d find it a bit much to make a fuss about something so commercialized that it seems like a way to remind that they should be cherishing their partner. But he also knows that the chances are small that Swan has ever had a proper Valentine’s Day – he’s honestly not sure if she and Walsh were together for the holiday, and he doubts that she and Neal were able to do it up during their vagabond days – and so resolves to give her a full experience.

Of course, this matter is complicated by the fact that he only learns about this holiday on the 8th, less than a week away, when the Italian place is already booked. As for Storybrooke’s few other dining options, Killian doesn’t quite trust the chef at the seafood place, and there’s no way he’s taking Emma for a romantic dinner at Granny’s. A special evening warrants more than the lasagna special.

Instead, he decides to try his hand at making a romantic dinner at home. It’s harder than anticipated, finding something he thinks he can manage with just one hand that Henry can also cook for his adoptive mother (and bless the boy, for recognizing that he should do something to make the day a little better for the still-heartbroken and healing Regina).  Normally, he’d choose a nice fish dish, add a salad and dessert, but frankly, while he’s incredibly proud of how brilliant Henry typically is, he doesn’t trust an amateur chef to properly cook the fish, and he’ll never hear the end of it if Regina gets sick from her dinner. He finally settles on a pasta dish, spaghetti carbonara, reasoning that the two of them ought to be able to handle six ingredients, and after a test run each – leftovers donated to Belle and Zelena in the name of keeping things a secret from Emma and Regina – Killian is prepared to declare the matter of dinner sorted.

Of course, after that, there’s still the matter of procuring a gift for Swan. Thankfully, he’s observant enough to have noticed a pearl drop necklace she’s had her eye on that’s easy enough to purchase, with a slight assist from Dave on the wrapping (it’s only fair, after he spent an hour and a half in the same jewelry shop he could have been out of in ten minutes, trying to help choose the perfect charm for Snow’s bracelet).

After that, thankfully, it’s all details – convince Granny to make that Mexican chocolate cake Emma loves, arrange for a bouquet of flowers to be delivered to the station on the 14th, make sure the nice linens are clean – and Killian is able to approach the holiday itself with some amount of confidence.

Confidence that, thankfully, is not misplaced. Emma loves her flowers – a lovely bunch of colorful daisies and fragrant fillers, instead of the typical roses – and frankly just seems touched that he remembered the holiday at all. His coup de grace, though, is really his evening. He sets the table with the nice linens (and maybe puts the nice linens on the bed that morning, but that’s neither here nor there), a single rose in a vase on the table to recall their first date, and pulls together his meal while Emma drops Henry at Regina’s and changes for their dinner. Somehow, the pasta is perfect (and Emma very impressed), and Killian only hopes that Henry’s culinary adventure has gone just as well.

Their night predictably ends in the bedroom, with a delightful lingerie set he’s willing to accept as his gift (though he is very thankful for the beautiful bookshelf she commissioned from Marco) and the pearl pendant dangling between her collarbones.

Valentine’s Day has been the most stressful of his education in holidays, but he’s fully willing to say that his efforts have paid off. Big time.

\------

St. Patrick’s Day is chaos.

It’s apparently not a holiday that requires any special preparation, the way Halloween and Thanksgiving and Christmas and Valentine’s Day had, since Henry only tells him about the event two days before. All that’s apparently required of him is to accept the various green articles of clothing gifted to him by Emma, Henry, and Mary Margaret.

He also very much enjoys what Henry explains is a tradition on the holiday – he’s allowed to pinch anyone not wearing green on the 17th of March.

Unfortunately, Henry fails to mention that the pinching tradition is actually something that everyone hates, and Killian almost takes a fist to the face when Leroy retaliates for a particularly satisfying pinch to the arm.

Honestly, the whole thing seems rather anticlimactic – it’s a bit odd to see so much of the town decked out in green, but after the festivities of the other months, this seems a bit tame.

That is, of course, until Emma takes him out to the Rabbit Hole that evening. Turns out, St. Patrick’s Day is more a drinking holiday than anything else.

He refuses to touch the green beer, but caves for the Irish whiskey instead of his usual rum. He seems to be the only one forgoing the suspicious green substance, though – David has to come retrieve a very feisty Snow, six out of seven dwarves are singing off key, and Ruby, recently returned for a visit with Dorothy, is gleefully at the center of it all, buying more beer and offering dares at anyone drunk enough to listen. Unlike New Year’s, Emma is largely surveying the chaos, every so often offering Killian a snarky aside. He’s probably having a more sedate holiday than most, but he’s perfectly happy to sit with his hooked arm around his Swan, people-watching and enjoying this town’s antics.

And who knows? Maybe next year, he’ll be one of the drunken participants.

\------

He doesn’t fully understand Easter.

Well, that’s not entirely true. He gets the religious half of it, even if he doesn’t subscribe to those particular beliefs. What he doesn’t understand is what a holiday that’s religious at its base has to do with chocolates and rabbits and eggs, especially what the rabbit has to do with the eggs since (unless things are more different in this realm than he realized) rabbits do not lay eggs. Most of all, he fails to comprehend how a holiday can change its date so vastly, from the end of March to the end of April – a full month of wiggle room. Henry tries his best, but the whole thing is simply beyond understanding.

(Not to mention that most of Henry’s best efforts revolve, as always, around trying to convert Killian through seasonal food. The marshmallow fluff birds are objectively disgusting, and he can’t quite wrap his head around the idea that jelly beans are neither jelly nor bean, and sometimes intentionally flavored to be revolting. He does like carrot cake, but refuses to consider it a seasonal food since he’s been assured it’s eaten throughout the year.)

He does enjoy watching the little ones run across the park looking for the eggs Mary Margaret hid, imagining maybe one day having his own little one to cheer on in this ridiculous contest, and the late lunch at Granny’s is a revelation. He already knew he liked Granny’s glazed ham and green beans and asparagus, but this “cheesy potatoes” concoction (apparently something she only makes for Easter dinner) is divine and he ends up taking three helpings.

At the end of the day, curled up in bed with Emma gnawing the ears off a chocolate rabbit, he comes to the conclusion that Easter might not be a holiday that he understands the way the rest of the town does, he can appreciate parts of it all the same.

\------

May begins with another lecture.

According to Henry, there’s another holiday called “Cinco de Mayo” that, like Columbus Day in October, they Will Not Be Celebrating.

“It would be like… like if the Canadians decided to celebrate our Independence Day in December and then insisted that they actually had the right date and knew better than us. Or if we found out it was Ashley’s birthday and everyone ran around in glass shoes to celebrate, even though that’s totally a stereotype and only, like, a tiny fragment of who she is. Does that make sense?”

It does.

Henry does, however, try to convince him that the 4th of the month is a nationally recognized holiday entirely devoted to watching all the Star Wars movies – “Or at least four through six!”. Killian is more than willing, but Emma finds out and nixes the plan, since the 4th is a school day and night.

(“It’s not really an official holiday, Killian, just a fun one. He just wants to skip school.”)

(Hopefully, Swan doesn’t notice when Killian leans over to Henry to whisper a quick “Maybe next year”.)

\------

Mother’s Day becomes a feat of scheduling.

Henry, of course, is blessed with two mothers, and while Regina has been generous enough to allow Henry to stay the night before so that he can make Emma breakfast, he does need to go to his other mother’s by mid-afternoon at latest. In between, Emma is expected to make a visit to her own mother, and Henry will be coming, won’t he? She’d love to spend some time with her favorite grandson.

In short, what should be a nice, relaxing day, has wound up being planned hour by hour. At least they don’t have to worry about gifts – he and Henry had planted a variety of flowers in pots the day before while Emma was at work, which she loved coming home to. This morning is just a matter of pulling together breakfast – something Henry insists on doing on his own, though Killian does try to hang around nearby to make sure that any pancake endeavors don’t end up burning the house down.

Thankfully, everything is fine. Emma loves the chocolate chip pancakes and the homemade card, Henry is incredibly proud of himself, and Killian gets to watch in contentment as the two people he loves most gorge themselves on breakfast.

Of course, that’s the last calm moment of their day. They all agree that they have to be out of the house by 10:30, thereby ensuring they leave by 10:45, all so they can make it to Snow and David’s by 11. No matter how often his mother-in-law claims they’ll have a nice, relaxing afternoon, Killian knows better, and today is no exception – she has a whole picnic planned, and again, they need to be walking across the pasture to her designated “perfect spot” by 11:45 or apparently some sort of hell will rain down on everyone, and we wouldn’t want that, now would we? Certainly not?

(Killian likes, respects, and even admires the Lady Snow, but when she gets in this sort of planning mindset, he finds it to be a matter of self-preservation to stay out of her way.)

Slightly terrifying former princesses aside, the picnic is nice, if a bit rushed. The sandwiches and potato salad are nice, but he mostly enjoys watching Henry play with little Neal and imagining that maybe one day, Henry will be playing with his own sibling. Killian knows that step is at least a very serious talk, and maybe several years away, but this is a day entirely devoted to celebrating mothers; it’s only natural his thoughts wander in that particular direction. 

The day moves far too fast, and before he knows it, he and Emma are dropping Henry at Regina’s for the second half of his Mother’s Day. 

(This is only the first of what will be many, many Mother’s Days, but this one - despite its stress – still manages to set the standard for all future celebrations.)

\------

The end of May also brings something called “Memorial Day”, that Henry is only slightly less vague about than Labor Day. 

“I’m, like, 90% sure it’s about remembering fallen soldiers. Which is great! We totally should. Except that this is an entire town filled with people who aren’t actually from this country, or this realm really, so it’s hard to make a personal connection. So this is one that we celebrate, but in, like, the looser sense of the word.”

Predictably, there’s another cookout. He donates the Jolly again, David mans the grill again, and Granny brings a cake again. 

This day is important, he can’t deny that, but he also can’t deny that the inhabitants of this realm seem to take any opportunity for a barbecue. 

\------

It’s been a wild year, learning about the multitude of holidays this realm offers, and he’s enjoyed each for their various reasons. But Father’s Day…

Father’s Day is special. If entirely unexpected.

Henry had briefed him at the beginning of the month, so he knows what to expect. A day to celebrate fathers, the same way they celebrated mothers the month before, seems to be a lovely idea. Not a father himself (well, not truly – even if he loves Henry as his own, he can’t lay claim to that particular title), he doesn’t expect much from the day. Maybe visiting David for yet another grilled feast, at most.

So he can’t properly describe his joyful surprise to wake up the third Sunday in June to find Henry – with an assist from Emma – preparing him a proper breakfast, complete with bacon and hashbrowns and biscuits and his favorite mackerel, despite the fact that he’s really the only who likes the fish. And if that wasn’t enough, just in case he’s a little slow on the uptake, there’s a card too, addressed to him, with an itinerary enclosed for the three of them to take a trip to Boston in a few weeks’ time and see some of the historic ships. What really sends him over the edge, though, and makes him damn near lose his shit (to borrow a Swan-ism) is the signature at the bottom:

 _Love, Henry_.

And really, who’s to blame a man for getting a wee bit emotional?

“Happy Father’s Day, Killian!” chirps Henry from the stove.

Killian has so much in his heart, so much he wants to say, about how he loves Henry like his own and is so relieved to see Henry feels the same, about how he never imagined in two hundred years that he’d ever get this, about how grateful he is that Henry and Emma have absorbed him into their little family, but all he manages to croak out past the massive lump in his throat is a heartfelt “Thank you, my boy.” He thinks Henry and Emma manage to understand, all the same.

And maybe they still go over to the Nolan property for yet another cookout later, but it means so much more now. It’s his first Father’s Day, after all, not just observing but as an honorary father himself, and he intends to revel in every second.

Killian knows he’s declared practically every holiday a new favorite, but he can’t help but feel like this one truly takes the prize. It’s been nearly a year now of celebrations, of learning from his _son_ the traditions of each, and he only hopes he can remember each and every detail going forward into the next year and all the years after that. Holidays, after all, are all about family and community, and he somehow feels a sense of peace with each new celebration, knowing that he’s finally a part of all that.

The sun at last sets on his first Father’s Day, and as he watches Henry doze in the backseat, he starts, once again, to turn his thoughts to the Fourth of July and whether he and Henry can sneak some of the larger, less legal firecrackers across the town line and into Storybrooke.

After all, he’s been told, what’s the Fourth without fireworks?

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed! First time posting, so consider playing nice. Thanks for reading!


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